


And if I Could Swim

by grayimperia



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: F/M, Gen, No Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2018-12-07 10:38:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11621808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grayimperia/pseuds/grayimperia
Summary: Kiibo goes to the beach, in a sense.





	And if I Could Swim

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kofukuron](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kofukuron/gifts).



> Prison/Space mode AU.
> 
> This fic is for Migi for the Christmas in July gift exchange! I really hope I gifted this to the right account, and I also hope you enjoy it!

Kiibo sits cross-legged on the concrete floor and plays the beach noises Iruma installed in him. The waves echo and rebound.

Iruma leans back in her beach chair, saying, “I am an island.” A seagull calls out from his speakers. She says, “I am a fucking island, and I am not trapped in this fucking shit hole.”

Kiibo doesn’t respond. Nothing in Shirogane’s empty research lab responds from the flat ocean backdrop to the large beach umbrella Iruma had set up to give them shade indoors. He stares at Iruma whose eyes hidden by sparkly pink sunglasses stare somewhere far above them. They had been trapped in the school to make friends with each other for over a month and a half. Cabin fever had set in with a vengeance.

Iruma shifts to the side to adjust her chair to lean back even further, and she flops back into, lying flat on her back, dragging her hands over her face, grumbling darkly. “I am such a fucking island, right now.” She turns her head to Kiibo. “I look like an island to you, right Kiibs?”

He blinks at her. “I…” Kiibo frowns. “I think you mostly look like yourself, Iruma-san.”

She huffs and takes to staring back up at the ceiling. “Kiibs, I meant, like, emotionally.”

Kiibo continues to find himself at a loss, but dutifully says, “I suppose you do, perhaps, maybe look like an island emotionally.”

He can’t see Iruma rolling her eyes behind her sunglasses. “Just fucking forget it.”

They sit with only the sounds of waves calling out serenely from Kiibo’s speakers drowning out the silence. Eventually he says, “Iruma-san?”

She grunts noncommittally, and Kiibo takes that as the go ahead to continue. He says, “Iruma-san, if you wanted to be an island emotionally, why did you not set up your beach chair at the pool?”

Iruma waves a hand vaguely. “Cause actually getting wet sucks balls. Besides,” she folds her arms behind her head. “The ocean’s way better than a shitty pool.” She wrinkles her nose in disgust. “The smell of chlorine makes me fucking wanna blow chunks, too.”

Kiibo says, “I see,” even though he doesn’t. Then, “Iruma-san, can I ask another question?”

“Can’t fucking stop you,” she answers.

“What is the ocean like?”

Iruma pauses for a moment before saying, “Sandy. And wet. And it smells like fish, I guess. Dunno,” she says. “Guess it’s okay if you’re into that shit.”

Kiibo nods and turns his head to stare at the dark blue ocean back drop behind them—the waves crashing onto the shore of Iruma’s imaginary island. He says, “Also, what is swimming like, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Iruma doesn’t respond immediately, and Kiibo turns back to see her sitting up, staring hard at him. The waves keeping roaring and the seagulls keep calling. She glances between him and the background and back again. And eventually, Iruma says, “It’s like… you’re flying, I guess? But, also, like, you’re not.” She frowns at her own poor explanation. “Like—forget what I fucking said earlier—imagine bein’ in space, but you can feel the air around you, and the air is really wet, but you don’t really fucking _feel_ wet until you stop.”

“I’m,” Kiibo says, “not sure I follow that.”

“It’s a bitch to describe is what it is,” Iruma says with a wave of her hand, taking her sunglasses off with the other to fiddle with them. She spits on a lens to begin cleaning. “Also, why the fuck are you asking me? There’s a goddamn pool you can go splash around in.”

He shakes his head. “Unfortunately that is not a possibility. Though I am waterproof, I lack buoyancy.” And he stares at his hands in his lap. “If I tried, I would just sink to the bottom.”

Iruma stares at him for another moment before standing from her chair. “You know what? I’m done with this shit for the day.” She gestures at him, before moving to fold up her beach chair. “Turn that crap off. And…” she bites her lip, but doesn’t look up from her current task, “and sorry for fucking dragging you out here, I guess.”

Kiibo stands, completely unperturbed by her words. “There is no need to apologize, Iruma-san.”

He clicks off the ocean sounds and a crashing silence substitutes its own roar.

Iruma says, “Yeah,” and hurries away without looking back him.

Kiibo watches her go and then turns back to stare at the still blue waves painted behind him. He waits until the sounds of Iruma dragging her beach chair and umbrella fade completely before he turns the sounds of the echoing ocean back on.

-

Days pass, and Kiibo sees less and less of Iruma. She stops walking with him to the school each morning, instead hurrying to lock herself in the computer room until the early hours of the next day. And Kiibo walks by himself and plays his ocean sounds and ignores everything from Shirogane’s politely questioning looks to Ouma’s less polite jeers.

But in the cafeteria one afternoon, he walks in on Iruma intently staring at Tojo as she pours their classmates tea from a larger pitcher. When Tojo finishes her preparations, she places one cup before Iruma, who promptly dumps it out on the table and watches it rush and start to drip over the edge and onto the floor with a fierce intensity.

Tojo immediately begins to move to clean the freshly created mess, a reprimand already on her tongue, lost on Iruma crouching down to view her newly created puddle at eyelevel. Kiibo approaches, but then Iruma bounces up from the table and dashes off without a word, Tojo still calling after her.

Kiibo watches her blond hair swing like the leaves on a palm tree as she flees the scene of her crime. Tojo just shakes her head but attends to the tea still dripping on to the floor without a word of complaint. Kiibo keeps watching the doors, but he asks, “Tojo-san, has Iruma-san been acting odd lately?”

Focused on her cleaning, Tojo replies, “More odd than usual?”

He nods, finally turning to her. “Yes, she,” he frowns. “She has stopped almost all intercourse with me.”

Tojo’s head snaps up, and she blinks at him for a moment. “Perhaps, do you mean,” she says, “that Iruma-san has stopped talking to you?”

“Yes,” Kiibo says. “I am beginning to worry if I have offended her.”

“Ah,” Tojo says. “Well, first I would suggest not phrasing your difficulties with Iruma-san like that around anyone else—they could misunderstand, and also,” she straightens to make eye contact with him, “if it is not too rude of me to say so, I believe there is very little one could do to offend Iruma-san.”

Kiibo frowns at her answer. “I’m still worried. Her strange behavior started after I tried to assist her in becoming an island.” He sits in one of the chairs, thinking deeply and almost blissfully unaware of the odd look Tojo sends him. “Tojo-san?” he asks.

“Yes?”

“What is the beach like?” he asks for the second time.

“The beach…” Tojo begins. “Well, I suppose in the summer it is a place of great relaxation. I rarely swim on the occasions I do go, however,” she smiles just a little, “simply feeling the warmth of the sun can be quite nice. With proper preparations first, that is.”

“You don’t swim?” Kiibo asks.

“Well,” she says. “I can, I just usually choose not to when I take leisure trips.”

Her words give him little encouragement, but still he asks, “But do you know what swimming feels like?”

She stops her task altogether to look at him. “I do…” she says carefully. “But, I’m not sure if I’d say there is only one feeling to swimming.”

Kiibo leans towards her in his chair. “There is more than one feeling?”

“Well, I have always thought so,” Tojo says. “If one chooses to swim for exercise, then the act is very brisk—exhausting even. But if one instead wishes to simply float or take a more casual approach, them it can be very soothing.” She looks to him. “Does that answer your question?”

He frowns. “I don’t know…” he recalls Iruma’s words. “Does it feel like you’re flying?”

Tojo smiles at him. “A little. If you just let yourself float, you can feel almost weightless—like you are part of the ocean itself.”

Kiibo goes to the pool to sit quietly and listen to the seagulls call and the waves crash. He stares at the still water and imagines what it would be like to become part of something as natural and beautiful as the sea.

-

He tries to stay up to greet Iruma on her return to the dorms one night. He sees Maki and Saihara pass by him, and he waves to them. Saihara returns the gesture, Maki does not, and they push through the glass doors to fade into the night. Kiibo watches after them for a moment, then watches the stars above in a sky that feels like water.

A voice jolts him out of his musings. “Never knew you were into space, Kiibo.”

Kiibo turns to see Momota behind him, staring at the stars from over the little robot’s head. “I’m not particularly,” he says before a thought occurs to him. “Momota-kun? Does swimming feel like being in space?”

Momota raises his eyebrows at him. “That’s kind of a strange question, but,” he rubs his chin in thought. “I’ve done a few underwater exercises to prepare for being in space before.”

Kiibo’s metal eyes widen. “You have?”

“Yup,” he nods. “They aren’t a whole lot of ways to simulate zero gravity, but,” he grins, “The great Momota Kaito has done almost all of them.”

“That’s amazing,” Kiibo says. “What was being underwater like?”

“That’s not… the amazing part, but uh, it’s like you don’t weigh anything so you can kinda just,” he gestures vaguely, “do like acrobatic stuff? Like flips or lift really heavy stuff. I guess it’s kinda cool now that I think about it.” He grins. “You’re kinda like a superhero or something.”

Kiibo echoes, “A superhero…”

Momota’s grin grows wider. “Yeah, and then take all of that and multiply it by a billion. That’s what being in space is like.”

Kiibo doesn’t answer immediately but instead takes to staring back out at the stars. “Is that why you want to go to space, Momota-kun?”

“Part of it,” Momota says, and he comes to stand side by side with Kiibo. “Also, it’s like the next frontier, you know? People’ve already explored the mountains and a lot of the sky just above us and some of the ocean. Well,” he frowns. “Not a fucking lot of the ocean. Did you know scientists actually know more about space then about the real fucking deep parts of the ocean?”

Kiibo looks at him with stars in his eyes, “Does that mean the sea is also the next frontier?”

He smiles. “Yeah, I guess it kind of does. But you know,” he reaches forward to ruffle his metal hair. “You should explore wherever you want. Stuff’s only impossible until you actually do it. So you should go do it!”

“But if I try to swim, I’ll sink,” Kiibo says.

Momota shakes his head. “That’s quitter talk.”

“But it’s true,” Kiibo insists. “It is not a matter of my willpower or desire, but one of—”

“Bullshit,” he says. “If you want to see the ocean, go see the ocean! Get Iruma to make you a fucking submarine or something—look I think I see her coming. Now’s your chance to ask her.”

Kiibo snaps his head to see Iruma’s crouched over figure approaching, and he straightens his shoulders. Momota smiles again and slaps his shoulder before pushing open the door, the cold night air rushing around him like waves. He salutes Iruma as he walks by and she returns the gesture with her own vulgar one. Kiibo moves to hold the door open for her, and she slows as she spies him smiling at her.

“Iruma-san,” he says brightly. “How was your day?”

She yawns. “Exhausting, but,” she reaches the door and swings an arm around his shoulders. “Finally fucking finished. You better ready to have your shiny metal ass blown right off your body.”

He frowns. “I am not sure what that means, but I will try.”

“It means,” Iruma says. “The great Iruma Miu is in the business of granting wishes—and your wildest fantasy is about to come the fuck true.”

Kiibo’s eyes widen. “Am I going to become human?”

“Your other wildest fantasy.”

“Oh.” Then her words catch up with him and he beams at her with the strength of the sun. “Oh! Iruma-san, I am still unsure of what you have done, but thank you!”

“Don’t thank me,” she grins. “Thank the power of technology. But also, you know, fucking thank me, too.”

-

The next morning, Iruma arrives at breakfast with a pair of sunglasses clipped to the hem of her shit and slams both of her hands on the table to announce that everyone needs to come to the computer room immediately, no exceptions. His classmates exchange looks of hesitation and confusion, but Kiibo leads them forward.

There are sixteen mismatched chairs in the computer room, each with a strange visor suspended above it. Iruma announces, “Everyone sit down and shut the fuck up—I got something to say.”

Kiibo’s the only one to take a seat, and he stares up at her expectantly. Iruma seems satisfied with her audience of one, and says, “So—you all better get on your hands and knees and thank me, since I am about to make our shitty lives in this hellhole slightly less shitty.” She flings an arm out to the side to draw attention to one of the visors. “Virtual reality, motherfuckers. We’re getting out of this asshole of a school.”

Tojo very politely raises her hand. “Iruma-san, please excuse my question, but if it is simply virtual reality, won’t we still be inside the school?”

She scowls. “Physically in the school, mentally in Iruma-topia.” She waves her hands. “Don’t any of you virgins have any imagination?”

Ouma raises his hand. “What kind of an idiot would go to a place called Iruma-topia?”

“You kinds of idiots!” Iruma shouts, ignoring Tojo’s whispered correction of her grammar. “Now we,” she unclicks her sunglasses from shirt and slides them onto her face, “are going to the beach.”

-

More arguing and debating and yelling is had, but slowly and surely, even his most suspicious classmates agree, and Kiibo plugs himself into the custom chair Iruma created especially for him.

The world goes black for a moment, then there is sun. And there is warmth and seagulls calling and the sound of waves, and Kiibo looks down to move suddenly tiny feet in the bright sand surrounding him. The others slowly pop into the world, each small and warped and seemingly dressed in swimwear. Kiibo looks down at his own unchanged body and can’t help but feel slightly disappointed.

The reaction is one of immediate oohs and aahs and complaints about the graphics quality of their avatars.

Iruma warps in, her avatar already in a pink bikini and holding a bright pink inner tube tucked beneath one of her tiny arms.

“Alright, listen up, assholes,” she says, drawing the group’s attention. “There are only two fucking rules, and if you break either, your ass earns a one-way ticket out of Iruma-topia. So, rule number one: no trying to drown each other. It’s not as fucking funny as you think it is. And rule number two,” she points a finger at them, narrowing her eyes, “I’ve slept for a total of four hours in the past four days, so if any of you fucks so much as think about waking me up, _I’ll_ be the one breaking rule number one. Got it?”

There is a general murmur of agreement. Iruma steps into the virtual ocean before them, and everyone suddenly begins to move. Kiibo stares out in wonder, and Iruma calls, “Oh, and everyone should be able to swim—even Kiibs,” without looking back over her shoulder. “And admire the damn water physics—I spent for-fucking-ever on ‘em.”

Iruma’s digital ocean roars, and Kiibo feels the sun on his digital face in their island of a school.

-

Shinguji kneels on the shore, reconstructing the temple from a faraway village he once visited, and Kiibo sits cross-legged next to Amami, together building each surrounding house. They swap stories of distant, legendary places, and Kiibo images each and every structure built out of sand as his strangely tiny hands pat another house together.

It’s of little concern that the castle Angie single handedly builds only a few feet from them is approximately five times as big and ten times as impressive. But, of course, when she takes a break from her masterpiece to kneel at Kiibo’s side, saying, “Oh, wow, Kiibo! Is God helping inspire you, too?” Kiibo can’t help but feel a hundred times as proud.

And it’s of even smaller concern when Ouma prances over to accidentally on purpose knock over all of his buildings while also accidentally leaving all of Amami’s intact. He dances away again, and Shinguji says, “Well, that was quite rude of him,” as Amami sighs.

Angie gasps. “Oh, no! Here Kiibo,” she shuffles some sand together. “Let Angie help you build some new ones!”

Kiibo smile and builds new houses, and Angie makes them beautiful.  
-

A volleyball bounces and comes to a petering stop at his feet. Kiibo picks it up, and he sees Tenko running towards him. She calls, “Thank you, Kiibo-san!”

He hands it to her. “Is this yours, Chabashira-san?”

She nods. “Yes, Tenko, Yumeno-san, and Hoshi-san are playing a game, but he’s an awful boy and hits it too hard for Yumeno-san.” She frowns at the thought before breaking out into a smile. “Ah, Kiibo-san, would you actually mind being our fourth? You can be on a team with Hoshi-san!”

Kiibo isn’t sure if he wants to do that or not, but Tenko’s already walking away and he finds himself already following after her. He takes a hesitant step onto the site of their makeshift game, saying, “I am afraid I am not familiar with the rules of this game.”

Beside him, Hoshi shrugs and says, “Don’t worry—none of us are either. We’re mostly just making it up.”

Kiibo nods. “I will still try my best.”

“Good,” says Hoshi. “Because Chabashira’s going to give you hell.”

On the other side of the haphazardly put together net, Tenko says, “Tenko is going to grind you into dust!” and jumps up in the air to put all her might behind a terrifying spike that soars over the net.

It bounces once, and Hoshi moves like lightening to slam it back.

Kiibo stares openmouthed at the two until Hoshi makes a point to pass the ball to him. “Heads up, Kiibo.”

He fumbles with it but manages to awkwardly toss the ball over the net, and Tenko jumps over Yumeno—casually taking a nap in the middle of the court—to push it back over.

The ball flies high above their heads, and Kiibo distantly hears Hoshi say, “This one’s all yours, Kiibo.”

-

Momota claps him on the back. “Kiibo, listen, I need a favor—Shuuichi’s being a baby and doesn’t wanna get wet, and Harumaki’s mad at me ‘cause I mentioned how heavy she was.”

Kiibo looks up at him quizzically. “I… do not understand what is going on.”

He points towards Gonta standing waist deep in the water. Ouma sits perched on his shoulders and sends them a smile as blinding as the sun while Gonta waves.

Momota leans down and says directly into Kiibo’s ears. “All you need to understand is that we’re gonna work together to make Ouma eat shit. Got it?”

“I,” Kiibo analyzes the situation. “Do not.”

“That’s fine, too,” Momota says giving him a thumbs up. “Just get on my shoulders, and try to destroy Ouma.”

Kiibo frowns. “Why would I—ah, Momota-kun!”

He finds himself quickly hoisted up into the air, struggling in the other boy’s grasp before being settled on his shoulders. Kiibo grapples for purchase, and in the distance he hears Gonta say, “Oh, is Kiibo-kun going to be your partner?”

Ouma giggles, kicking his feet back and forth. “This is going to be too much fun.”

Kiibo clings to Momota’s head as he charges forward, shouting, “You are fucking going down this time! Kill him, Kiibo!”

In his first foray into the water, Kiibo finds himself rocking back and forth on Momota’s shoulders while Ouma eagerly reaches forward to shove him off, Gonta standing like a rock under the smaller boy. He falls almost instantly, Momota splashing to the ground next to him.

Ouma laughs, Gonta apologizes, and Momota shoots to his feet, immediately reaching to help Kiibo up, shouting, “That was just a fucking warm-up!”

Kiibo dazedly stumbles to his feet. “I do not think I did it right, Momota-kun.”

“You did fine—listen,” Momota says, grabbing him by both shoulders. “We can do this. You can do this. You can make the impossible possible.”

Kiibo stares up at him in awe. “I can?”

Momota grins. “You can, and together,” he moves back and reaches a hand towards Kiibo. “We can destroy Ouma. Are you with me?”

Kiibo grips his hand with both of his. “I am.”

Kiibo falls into the water again and again, but Momota helps him back up each time and his hug at their eventual triumph physically lifts him on his feet while flails behind them.

-

Under Tojo’s forest of beach umbrellas, Maki sits with her knees pulled to her chest, gripping at her toes, and staring at Shirogane just out of the shade’s reach as she attempts to tan her avatar in the virtual sun.

Kiibo sits next to her, following her gaze. “Harukawa-san,” he says. “I do not mean to intrude, but you could probably join Shirogane-san if you wanted.”

“No,” Maki says.

More silence passes before she amends, “I don’t tan. I just burn.”

“But,” Kiibo glances up at the seemingly endless sky above them. “But you would not actually be in the sun.”

She sighs and begins to fiddle with her hair. “It doesn’t matter. I’m usually in the shadows anyway.”

“You do not like the sun?” Kiibo questions.

Maki ignores him in favor of twisting her hair in her hands. Kiibo continues to sit quietly while Tojo approaches, settling on Maki’s other side. She sits down carefully, saying, “I must say Iruma-san did a very impressive job on creating the weather. I find the breeze particularly calming.”

Kiibo leans around Maki to speak with her. “I like it, too. I have never been to a beach before, but I know Iruma-san did an amazing job.”

“I agree,” Tojo says. “I find all the details to be especially nice touches, particularly the variety of shells.”

To Kiibo’s surprise, Maki turns to her. “Shells?”

“Yes,” Tojo nods. “I found several on my first cursory walk around. I’m sure a more detail oriented expedition would uncover more.”

Maki furrows her brow and turns to stare at the ocean. “Are there any here? Under the umbrellas?”

“I would assume so,” Tojo answers. “Though I have not looked for myself.”

Maki rises to her feet. “Kiibo—come with me.”

He looks up at her. “Do you need something, Harukawa-san?”

She doesn’t answer him immediately, instead choosing to look around, turning in a semi-circle as she does so. Without a word, Maki reaches down, brushing sand away from a specific spot on the ground and pulling a pale pink shell from the ground.

Kiibo stands to get a better look at her find. “Oh, it appears one was right under us.”

Maki pushes it towards him. “Hold this.” Her face darkens. “And if you break it, I’ll break you.”

“I-I will do my best to keep it safe,” he answers.

Maki nods and begins to walk under the shaded path, looking back only to jerk her head to prompt Kiibo to follow, carrying the beginnings of her collection.

-

Neither Kaede nor Saihara protest when Kiibo bumbles his way into joining them on their walk along the shore.

He sees his tiny feet leave imprints in the sand before the waves come to gently lap over them. Kaede laughs. “So, I’ve seen way too many romance movies, and I don’t think any of their writers have ever actually taken a long walk along the beach.”

“Ah,” says Saihara. “Maybe they have, but,” he looks back to the others. Kiibo glances back, too, to see Ouma’s plan to bury a sleeping Momota derail as someone wakes up a moment too early. Momota’s cursing carries across the entire beach. Saihara says, “I don’t think they ever did it with… people like us.”

“That’s probably true,” Kaede says. “But at least they’re having fun… I think.”

Kiibo stares after the two, running in circles around Tojo’s umbrella forest, Maki issuing threats at them from its safety. “I think Ouma-kun is having fun.”

“Hmm,” says Saihara. “Well… I suppose they can figure it out.”

Kaede turns to him, eyebrow quirked. “Not gonna help Momota-kun?”

Saihara tugs absently at his bangs, caught halfway through reaching for a hat that isn’t there. “I don’t know… maybe it’s silly but I’m a little annoyed at Momota-kun right now.”

Kaede laughs. “Because he made fun of you for not wanting to get wet?”

Kiibo volunteers, “I can confirm the game Momota-kun wanted you to play did involve getting very wet.”

“Well, at least Kiibo-kun took that one for you,” Kaede says. “And you really don’t want to swim at all? Even though the fact that we’re at the beach in the first place is amazing?”

He shakes his head. “Not really…”

“Soooo,” Kaede says, wadding out further into the water. “How mad would you get if I did this?”

With that, she reaches down into the water and jerks her arms back up, a spray of water falling over both Saihara and Kiibo.

Saihara flinches at the action before snapping his head to see Kaede poorly hiding her laughter behind her hands. He frowns, and for a second Kiibo thinks he is going to storm off when his face changes and he steps forward to create an even bigger wave to send back against Kaede.

She laughs again, running from it calling, “No! Kiibo-kun, help me!”

Kiibo stares between the two of them as Kaede splashes Saihara, who only smiles as the water soaks him. Saihara says, “She started it—you should help me.”

Kiibo thinks hard before stepping calmly between them to raise both arms and crash them down to coat both of them.

They run in the surf, and Momota and Ouma’s chase on the shore somehow meets up with theirs, then Tenko and Hoshi’s volleyball lands a little too close, and before long Kiibo finds himself in the water with everyone, except for one very particular person.

Later on, when Kiibo sits exhausted on the shore, Saihara comes to quietly settle next to him. They sit in silence and the digital sunset stretches across the horizon. With his knees pulled to his chest, Saihara says, “This place really is amazing. Even if there’s one thing about it I still don’t understand.”

Kiibo blinks at him. “What do you mean?”

Saihara’s eyes remained locked on the sunset, and looking out, Kiibo can see one figure floating on the waves in an inner tube silhouetted against it. “I don’t understand why Iruma-san made it. Today was fun, but she spent all of it napping.” He frowns. “Also—though I certainly appreciate all the work she did—I don’t think Iruma-san is the kind of person who would go to all this trouble just for us.”

Kiibo doesn’t say a word, instead simply staring out Iruma’s island. He staggers to his feet, mumbling, “I’ll be right back,” and wades into the ocean Iruma built just for him. Each stroke through the waves comes almost naturally, almost like he’s flying.

Iruma’s still snoring in her inner tube, and Kiibo repositions himself to calmly float on his back next to her. The waves lap up against them, and Kiibo closes his eyes, the familiar ocean sounds she installed in him so long ago washing over him along with her soft snuffling noises as he joins Iruma on her island.

**Author's Note:**

> As you may be able to tell, I got a little carried away with this, haha. But overall, the gift exchange was very fun, and I adore every present I received, and I hope the people I wrote for like theirs as well!


End file.
